Safety Net
by I Am Askew
Summary: Stiles has to come to terms with what happened. But he has to recover too.


Allison's dead. Allison is dead, Aiden is dead and it's his fault.

He lets Lydia clutch him and cry into his chest, too shocked to do anything else. People are dead and he's alive and it's over.

He clutches back and then someone's there and they're grabbing Lydia and he's falling, nothing left, all used up and soiled and broken and empty. Someone is behind him, familiar, he can't feel his legs. Everything is buzzing, the voice is someone he knows, calling something in the same pattern, on repeat, like a muffled alarm. _Stiles, Stiles, Stiles_.

He wakes up somewhere warm and familiar smelling, aching all over, and barely able to move. he shifts, makes a small noise. Noise comes back at him. A soothing "Shhh, shhh, shhh." Fingers hard with callouses stroke across his forehead and his barely open eyes close again, blocking out the blurry vision, going back into the darkness.

This happens a few times, then he wakes up for real.

His dad keeps him in bed at first, and he's too exhausted to argue or say anything really. His mind can't comprehend disobeying anyone right now, will not allow him to even consider going against the simplest suggestion. He doesn't really listen to what Melissa says, but hears snatches anyway, weight loss, sleep deprivation, over exertion. He doesn't care enough to do anything about it, doesn't have the energy to do more than sleep and stare at the wall or the ceiling when he's awake.

When he's awake, sometimes his face is wet. His dad thumbs away at the tear tracks silently, kisses his forehead, holds his hand, and neither of them say anything. There are no sobs, no movement. Just the slow slide of salty water down his cheeks and into the pillow.

When he sleeps he doesn't move, his body so deprived of energy it's conserving everything, and when he's awake he still doesn't have the energy to move, so his dad, Melissa, Scott, they turn him onto his side, his front, his back, to stop him from getting bedsores.

They bring him food, but he can't keep it down. He tries to eat, he really does. Toast, and soups and sandwiches, they go in and he tries to swallow but they taste like ash, blood and death. So he throws up and everyone looks concerned.

It's always quiet in the house, low murmurs that carry far, the _tick tick tick_ of the clock on his wall. The dripping noise from IV bags stolen from the hospital in the chaos of everything happening. The sound of his own slow breathing.

Scott brings him an apple. It's shiny and green, but he tells him to close his eyes and not look at it. To imagine. Believe, like Deaton said. He doesn't have to try too hard to believe that the apple is green and juicy and tastes good as Scott hands him slice after slice, so he keeps his eyes closed and lets his best friend guide him. It goes down and doesn't come back up. He hears his dad's relieved crying in the hall when Scott tells him. Quiet breaths and the occasional hitch and break in his voice.

Strength finally starting to regain now that he's somewhat able to eat again, he starts to shower alone. Previously it was bed baths. His dad or Scott help him into the shower in his boxers and leave him sitting on the floor of it to clean himself up. He doesn't bother standing, he gets lightheaded if he does for too long. They give him half an hour, a long time for a shower, but he appreciates it, sitting there under the warming spray and unable to hear anything over the sound of falling water.

He's not really well enough to go anywhere, assisted to the couch and back each day for a change in scenery. He's gained some weight and rest has made him more alert, though he still has a long way to go and looks like a summer breeze will knock him on his ass. But the day of Allison's funeral dawns, and his dad finds him sat on the edge of his bed, fully dressed.

"I'm going." He quietly interrupts his dad's desperate reasoning to keep him here, let himself recover. He says nothing more and stares at the wall. He needs to be there. He should be there. Allison was his friend and Scott and Lydia are his friends and they need his support. He won't be able to look Chris Argent in the face or even apologise, he wouldn't dare to, the man needs to grieve for his daughter, not listen to useless apologies and platitudes from the kid that got her killed. But he goes.

His dad drives him there, they're the last to arrive and he finds that he can't get out of the car at first, about to have a panic attack. The shame and guilt rise up inside him, making him choke and gag, because this was his fault. Everyone else is already seated, his dad tells him. They could just go home. He shakes his head, steels himself and slides slowly out of the car, eyes closed. They sit right at the very back. When the ceremony is over, his dad takes him straight back home, without seeing or talking to anyone.

Nobody talks about the sleepwalking measures his dad took and how they're still up. He doesn't care that his dad, everyone, they don't trust him. He doesn't even trust himself and it feels like he won't ever again. Anything that keeps his friends safe from him is judged as reasonable in his mind, so he doesn't ask.

It's not how his dad finds out that he's having night terrors.

He hasn't been screaming. Too scared for screaming. Making noise was what _it_ wanted, to find him and get inside his head, to trap him there. He wakes up tangled in his blankets, hyperventilating and covered in sweat. Scott doesn't stay as much now, his dad sent him back home to be with his mom and start getting back to normal. So Scott's not here when he wakes, heart jackhammering in his chest and terrified. Scott can't hear it, so he doesn't come running or alert his dad to come running.

But one night, it starts early, and his dad must have still been awake downstairs. He wakes up after he falls out of bed with a loud thump and his dad comes pounding up the stairs, calling his name. He cries and crawls into the corner of the room and huddles there, terrified. He covers his head with his arms, tries to breathe. He's pissed himself. His dad inches in and gathers him up in a tight hug, muttering nonsense and rocking him a little.

The next morning his dad tells him that the security camera in his room can be taken down, but the deadlocks on the front and back doors will stay because he sleepwalks. He doesn't ask for it to be removed, he doesn't trust himself. No, better that it stays and then if _it_ comes back, his dad will know.

Scott is called over to explain to him that _it's_ not coming back, and he gets there in record time. He doesn't believe him, not completely, but it helps a little. They hug, and Scott looks straight at him and tells him sincerely that it's never ever happen again. If he wants the camera to stay because it makes him feel safer, that's fine, but they won't watch the tapes.

He wonders if he'll ever get over this. His dad promises him that he will.

Lydia comes to visit, out of the blue. She brings some snacks and drags his duvet downstairs and they spend an afternoon watching some harmless Disney movies. They barely speak, and it's only on light topics. She initiates each exchange and he tries hard to bounce it back at her, the way he thinks she wants it, normal.

It sounds stilted and slightly wooden though, he can't get his pitch quite right, the tone is underlaid with sadness and he's always a bit too slow to reply. She seems a little disappointed. but she tells him it will be okay, and she'll come back.

Lydia is a perfectionist, and she will keep practising this with him until he gets it right. She says that he will get it right eventually.

Stiles tries to believe her.

When Chris Argent shows up on his doorstep, He's been forewarned that the man was coming, and Scott is already on his way over. His dad's home too, but all this and being told that Chris isn't here to hurt him, isn't enough to stop him from having a massive panic attack when his dad goes to answer the door. He can't breathe and his chest has never been this painful. As soon as Chris enters the house he bolts off the couch and crawls underneath the dining table. He's seventeen, he killed this man's daughter and he's hiding under the table like a coward. He knows that he should face up to this, try to be mature. But he's _seventeen_. He's not even finished high school and he's killed a bunch of people and he's bad and wrong.

He hears Chris and his dad talking, saying it's too soon, his dad explaining about the night terrors, the weight loss, the anxiety. Agreeing with each other. Chris is apologising. Then Scott gets here and crawls under the table with him. He clings to his best friend and makes his shirt dark with tears. He doesn't feel human.

They try a couple more times to get him and Chris in the same room but he's just not up to it. After the fourth attempt results in him panicking so much that he throws up and faints, his dad puts his foot down.

His dad sits with him and helps him write a letter. It's very short. They have a few false starts where he's written "I'm sorry" too many times in a row, _sorry sorry sorry, so sorry_. Those end up in little scrunched piles in the bin. Eventually though it's done, and his dad takes it from him to mail it before he can rip it into pieces. Afterwards they sit and have dinner, his dad doesn't say anything when he doesn't open his eyes for the entire meal.

Six days later a letter comes addressed to him. He reads the words of curt forgiveness from Allison's dad and breaks down.

By the time summer is coming to an end, He's regained most of the weight he's lost and is looking more or less healthy. He goes to therapy and takes anti anxiety pills, and he has breathing exercises, but he's getting there.

He might be able to do this.


End file.
